Paint it Black
by Priestess of Camazotz
Summary: She escaped. Someone who helped her is supposed to be dead. Gone. Never coming back. But...they are...what will Harry do when he finds out?
1. Escape

"And I want you to watch over my mommy and my daddy and my—."

"Would you just bloody shut up!" interrupted the voice of a very annoyed, sixteen year old. 

The voice belonged to Rachael. She would be in school at the moment, a Slytherin at Hogwarts, but she was accused of a crime and was in Azkaban, the wizard prison. She had been for about a year. The long stay at the hell, hadn't really affected her. Not on the inside anyway.

The year she'd arrived, her hair had been to her shoulders, maybe a little shorter. She'd been wearing comfortable pants and a T-shirt that could have belonged to a guy. Her brown eyes had been full of tears, her mouth opened in screams. 

Now, however, her brown hair was down to her mid-back, her pants were baggy and she really needed a belt, her T-shirt was so baggy it was almost a blanket, her eyes were filled with anger or boredom, and the only thing that came out of her mouth were insults.

When the person who had stopped praying (some idiot who'd lost his mind about five months back), Rachael sighed. It was quiet, all except for the screams of those prisoners who were so guilty, that their crimes constantly haunted them. Since she didn't feel as if she'd done any crime, she didn't feel guilt, nor was she haunted.

Her life in the cell was a hell of a lot better than it had been. Before, she'd stayed with this idiot, but could never remember his name. Witflick…Fattwarck…_Flitwick__! A small smirk appeared on her thin, yet still beautiful, face. She'd remembered. Finally._

Flitwick had been the Charms professor at Hogwarts. Hell, he probably still was. She didn't know and she didn't care. It wasn't _her_ fault that the idiot, Malfoy, had pissed her off enough that she'd used the Cruciatus Curse. He'd fully deserved it. Nor was it her fault that he'd ducked and it had hit Longbottom. She hadn't cared, as long as someone was in pain.

Rolling her eyes, she pictured the wand being snapped, the phoenix feather being burned to a crisp, and the empty, split wood stick being thrown out of the boat. 

That wasn't even her wand. She'd found that one on the ground, near a tree. She knew whose it was, Weasley's. Rachael's wand wasn't even a phoenix feather. It was a 7 in., mahogany wand, with a dragon heartstring in the center. The idiots at the Ministry hadn't even done their jobs in making sure it was her wand. 

Oh well, their loss. As soon as she got out of the bloody prison, she was going to get her wand back, and _Avada__ Kedavra Drao Malfoy till he went through Tartarus and back. Until then, she would simply let herself be bored._

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming down the hall. She tilted her head and frowned. It wasn't feeding time, the prisoners were never let out for a walk, and there were no screams or sobbing ruling out a newbie. _A visitor?__ Surely not…She got up from where she'd been sitting in the corner. She walked towards the bars and froze. _

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the huge blood stain on the wall. Her blood stain. She smirked and sat back down in her spot. It wasn't going to be a visitor for her, since she had no friends, so there wasn't a reason to go see _who it was._

Suddenly she heard voices, as if someone was talking to them self. It was definitely a male. She heard what he was saying:

"I _hate_ this place. I was here three years ago, when Black escaped. You'd think that I, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, could get someone to come here and do this for me. But no. I have to."

'Black?' Rachael mouthed silently to herself. 'Fudge?' 

Shaking her head, she watched as the figure stopped in front of her cell. She crossed her arms and glared.

"Rachael Monroe?"

"Fudge," she said, knowing she was insulting him without really…saying anything.

So did he. The Minister puffed out his chest, "You are to come with me."

"Bloody hell. What for? What if I don't want to go with a muggle-lover like you?" she said, the same tone in her voice.

"Don't use those words, young lady. What for? For another trial, of course. And you have no choice. Now just _come_," he insisted.

Rachael frowned. There was something in his voice, something…different. He sounded _nervous_. He didn't know how to be nervous. The _real_ Fudge anyway.

Still suspicious, she took a step towards him. Sighing in defeat, she muttered, "Fine, c'mon you bloody imbecile. I'm just _dying to come back to this cell."_

He just nodded. _Again unlike himself. He opened the door and she walked out. She was weak, the lack of eating and darkness of the cells had made her thinner, yet stronger in other ways. She crossed her arms over her blanket-like shirt and followed as Fudge led her down the halls. She didn't flinch when she passed the dementors, but for some reason, Fudge did. _What could ickle-perfect-fanatic-Fudge have done that the dementors remind him of?_ she thought to herself. An evil smirk at the possibilities her warped mind could think of appeared on her face._

When they stepped outside, Rachael flinched. She hadn't seen, or been, in the sun for a year. It was quite a shock. She just stood there, blinking rapidly for a few minutes. 

Finally Fudge appeared back in front of her. Was it just her, or did he appear, thinner? Younger, even? She frowned at him. 

"A-are you coming or not? We don't have a long time…" he said, glancing around nervously.

She frowned harder, but nodded, "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming."

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When they reached land, Rachael looked at Fudge and felt her jaw drop. As the man got out of the boat, he changed. Not attitude, but like…_appearance._

As she watched, the man's hair lengthened. It grew thicker (covering the bald spot) and darker. It turned black. Then the man's face changed. 

Suddenly she was staring at a man a lot younger. As she stared, she suddenly realized who it was.

Rachael, the newly escaped criminal from Azkaban, the second one in the history of the world, also the youngest person to ever be sent there, was staring straight into the face of…

Sirius Black.


	2. Explanations, A Flashback, and a Truce

Rachael stared at him in shock. She, like the rest of the world, had heard of his death. How could he be standing in front of her, now?

"You're dead…" she said slowly, suspicion evident in her voice.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I swear."

"Prove it…" she hissed, still suspicious.

"Is there any way I could look this good if I was dead?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

She had to admit, he was good-looking. With a hair-cut, he'd be hot. _What am I thinking? He's like 36!_ She frowned softly. He looked more 19 than 36.

"You're younger than you should be," she stated bluntly. 

Sirius shrugged impishly. "Ok, I'll give you that. I am. It's a long story and—."

"—you're going to tell me it before I go anywhere with you." 

He sighed and glanced around. "Ok, fine. But not here. Come on." He grasped her hand, and before she could protest, dragged her out of sight. 

She rolled her eyes. Planting her feet, she forced him to stop. "Now tell me."

Nodding, Sirius took a deep breath and began to tell her, starting when he fell through the mirror…

[flashback…2 years previous]

_Sirius stood in between two mirrors. Exactly in the middle. Looking to his right, he watched the mirror. Inside it was the life he'd had till then. It showed him select scenes from his past. His favourite ones. Getting his letter to Hogwarts…Meeting James, Remus, and Peter…Becoming an Animagus…Graduating…Getting a motorbike…Lily and James' wedding…_

_He smiled and took a step towards it. Instantly, he felt younger, and looked about 10 years younger too. He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the mirror that had been on his left. He frowned and turned half-way._

_In the other mirror, he could see all those he'd known. Harry's, Hermione's, and Ron's faces were in the front of the crowd. Hermione and Ron were watching Harry sadly as he stared at Sirius. The pain in his godson's eyes almost killed him._

_Suddenly, the face of a girl appeared next to Harry's. She was staring at him, her eyes filled with more pain than the boy next to her. It shocked him, the other emotion in her eyes. It was love. She whispered softly, her voice low, yet soft, "Come back…please come back…don't leave."_

_Sirius sighed. Which to choose? Living happily in the past, where all the things that were happening now weren't existent? _

_Or…go back. Go back and be with his godson again. Go back and find that girl who was begging him to return. Go back and be loved._

_Taking a half-step towards the mirror-of-his-past, Sirius turned and, before he could gain back his years, leapt through the mirror. Just as he got through, the girl's face smiled._

[end flashback…the present]

"…and then I found myself in the office. I became a big, black dog and snuck out. I allowed myself to be thought a pet by this family." Sirius finished.

Rachael just stared at him in disbelief. If what he said was true, he'd come back for a girl who loved him. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"Who was the girl? Why are you here?" she asked. Her voice wasn't filled with the insulting tone it had been when he was Fudge.

Sirius hesitated, thinking quickly. "Umm…I don't know her name. I'd never seen her before. Why am I here? I'm here telling you how I'm not dead, obviously."

Rachael rolled her eyes. "So you came back just for a girl you've never met?"

He paused, then nodded, "Yep, that sounds just about right."

"You're pathetic. Oh well, you've helped me escape from the bloody prison," she muttered. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, "Why did you help me escape?"

"I—ah—thought you could help me find the girl," he stuttered.

She thought a moment then shrugged. "Ok, what did she look like?"

He thought a moment, then "She was in her late teens, with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. She wasn't extremely tall, but she wasn't short either…I know she was a witch and that she went to Hogwarts. She was wearing the uniform in the mirror."

Rachael kind of nodded absentmindedly. The description fit about twenty girls she'd seen at Hogwarts. "Do you know what house was on her robes?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Um…not at the moment. If I think about it hard and long enough I probably could though." Sirius sighed.

"Ok, I'll wait…"

"_No!_" he almost shouted. "I mean, not here. We really have to go…we shouldn't stay here. It won't be much longer before people realize you're missing."

She raised her eyebrow, "Ok…whatever."

Sirius thought a moment. "Do you know how to Apparate?"

"No, but—."

"Shit. Um…"

"Sirius—."

"Well, I'll have to transport you, now how did that spell go? I wasn't ever good at doing those kind of spells," he muttered to himself.

"Sirius! I—."

"Shh! Not now! I'm trying to remember the bloody spell."

"_I'm an unregistered Animagus!_" she practically screamed at him.

Sirius jumped about a foot in the air and stared at her in surprise. "Oh, well why didn't you say that in the first place?!"

"I tried but—."

"Never-matter, let's go!" 

Suddenly in Sirius's place was a gigantic black dog. It wagged its tail and started to trot off, leaving Rachael to stare at it in disgust.

"Insufferable…" she muttered under her breath. Concentrating a second, she became a huge silver wolf. _Yes! I did it!_ she thought to herself. Shaking herself thoroughly, she loped after Sirius who was heading for the trees off the bank.

_This is going to be one interesting year, _she thought. Slipping into a comfortable pace, she followed him into the shadows. They were on the edge of the forest that would soon turn into the Forbidden Forest.


End file.
